Where Dwells the Spinner
by goldmin
Summary: When an enigmatic Belle arrives in town searching for the spinner in order to establish her knitting trade, she discovers a quiet deep man that just might bring more to her life than perfectly crafted yarn.
1. Chapter 1

Where Dwells The Spinner

"Do you know where the spinner lives?" Belle asked at the inn. If she were to establish a reputable knitting trade she would have to find access to yarn in this town as soon as possible. The last two towns she had traveled through had been very disappointing- their yarn coarse and harsh, even what she was told was lamb's wool- and the prices ridiculously high.

"Oh, we have a spinner alright, that's about all he's good for." With this strange remark she was directed to the end of town to a small cluster of buildings and sheds, set slightly apart from the rest of town.

A small boy with tousled hair and large dark eyes answered her knock, peering from around the edge of the partially opened door.

"Is this the spinner's home? "

"Yes," his reply came slowly.

"I was told I might be able to purchase some yarn here?"

The boy eyed her, without answering and she wondered at the disbelief she caught in his glance.

A deeper voice within called. "Who is it, Bae?" and the door swung further open to reveal a slender man leaning against a staff, his face tanned from days outside, brown hair tousled, rough clothes of soft tanned hide. He froze when he saw her, a frown on his brow, hesitation and caution in his eye.

"I am the spinner. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Oh lovely," she smiled. "My name is Belle. I've just moved to town and as knitting is my vocation I had hopes of finding a spinner close by who might sell me a few balls of yarn."

The man stared suspiciously for a moment and she wondered why he would be so wary of strangers.

"Yes, I do have some I have been saving for market day in Newbridge if you would like to see them." He glanced at his son who immediately understood the unspoken request and disappeared into the hut. He returned carrying a large pannier. The spinner lead her to a wooden bench in the grass at the side of the house and his son set the basket on the ground. He began pulling various skeins from the basket for her examination, explaining each with a description of the spinning technique used and quality of wool and age of each sheep that each skein had been spun from. He discussed his trade with an easy confidence, without hesitation or doubt.

Belle was amazed at his knowledge of yarns and fiber quality. Here was a man with whom she could discuss yarn and her knitting needs without getting the blank stares she was accustomed to receiving as she traveled from town to town looking for quality goods. She was even more amazed as he handed her skein after skein of the softest yarn she had ever come across. The twist was firm but the fibers slid gently through her fingers whisper light.

She turned to him in wonder."You spun this? All of these? From your sheep?"

"Certainly, sheep I raised from lambs," he eyed her in puzzlement. "You do not like the weave? Is there something wrong with the yarn?"

"They're- they're perfect. These are the softest fibers I have ever found. I have been getting my yarn from Milltown until now but these far surpass any I have found there." At his continued puzzlement she added, "do you have a special technique you use to achieve such a soft yarn?"

The spinner took a skein from the pannier. "Well my father taught me a different twist technique that he learned from his grandmother, it makes the yarn stronger without losing softness." There ensued a detailed explanation of spinning and twisting techniques that she only vaguely understood.

This whole time his son- she assumed it was his son- had waited at the spinner's elbow following the conversation quietly. Now he stepped forward and pulled a smaller skein of yarn from the bottom of the basket and held it out.

"Here's the one that I finished last night," he said shyly. Belle smiled and took the proffered skein. It was knobbly and bumpy, uneven the entire length that she pulled out, but in a consistent pattern that was quaint and appealing.

"He's just learning," the spinner said with a wry fond smile, reaching for the yarn to take it back. A proud and loving father, this man obviously had a close relationship with his son who grinned back. Her heart ached to see this special bond, and she clamped down on the visions that sprang to mind from her own past.

She smiled weakly. "But you will sell this to me, won't you? This would be perfect for a little baby's cap that I have been asked to make."

"No," the spinner said with a shake of his head, "this is just a beginner's yarn. The quality will improve but it's not quite ready to be sold."

"It may be a beginner's yarn but it is so unique, it is exactly what I have been looking for." As the spinner continued to look doubtful, she added, " no, please, I really do want it." She turned to Bae. "Won't you please let me have it?" And she reached into her coin purse tucked away beneath her apron, pulled out a coin, and set it in his hand. He grinned proudly and his father put an arm around his shoulders in acquiescence.

Looking into his basket Belle counted skeins. "I really need at least half of these now. How soon will you be selling the rest? I will probably need that many more next week." She began to count out coins for the yarn. When she looked up, the spinner was frowning at her.

"You want to buy half of these?"

"Yes, is there something wrong? Are they not for sale? I'll pay more than your normal rate for them if-"

"No, no, they are for sale, of course, " he said. "I just usually only sell that much in a month, never in one day."

"Oh good. Then you will save the other half for me? I am afraid I won't be able to pay for the other half until next week so I'll just take the one batch now." And she handed him the coins she had pulled out. "I hope this is enough. It is what I have paid in the last two towns but really the quality of your yarn is far superior to theirs."

The spinner examined the coins she placed in his hand. "Wait, this is too much. It's twice what I ask for."

"Really, do you give everyone such problems when they try to buy from you?" she asked in pretended severity, then smiled. "Well, then you have been underpaid long enough. This town should be grateful to have a spinner of such quality as you." Father and son exchanged a look which she could not decipher. She collected her skeins then leaned back with a sigh of relief to examine the yard and fields around the side of the house.

"You really have a beautiful view here." Her eyes traveled across a green meadow dotted with a few grazing sheep and a shaggy dog resting in the shade overseeing them. She turned to Bae. "Are those your sheep? Are you the shepherd?"

A quick grin sprang to the somber face. "Yes, they're ours. Braith takes care of them almost by himself," indicating the dog.

"It's so peaceful here. If I lived here I would sit on this bench and knit here all day and watch the bees buzz by and the sheep and ..." She paused lost in musings and memories. Open fields in the summer stirring with the gentle sounds of wooly sheep, a lone cow, tyrannical goats, and the cluck of satisfied chickens. A home where loved ones waited. There had been a place like this once for her, but that was long past.

Perhaps sensing her sadness, Bae stepped to her side and touched her shoulder timidly. "You can come here and sit and knit anytime you want. We wouldn't mind."

"Thank you," she smiled up at him, grateful for the kindness behind his generous but impulsive offer, then turned to his father. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She stood to go and the spinner rose with her.

As they rounded the corner of his home, the spinner extended a cautious hand and with a tentative smile said, "Bae was right. You are welcome to use our bench for your knitting anytime you like."

His manner was much more relaxed compared to the suspicious and wary man that had come to the door earlier. He smiled down at her openly now and she was surprised at what a change that made. Smile lines spread out from the corners of his mouth, the smile reflected in his deep brown eyes. She would almost call it a handsome face were it not for the edge of sadness that seemed to hover over him, never quite gone from his careful manner. It was evident he wore his past heavily.

"Now I just have to find the old smith's house. Do you know which way it is?" she asked him.

Bae jumped in," Just across the road. The old smith is our nearest neighbour." His face lost its carefree grin. "Or he was."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did something happen to him?"

Again father and son exchanged a look she could not decipher but gave no answer.

"Well, I will be staying there and I was told it was at this end of town." There was a strange undercurrent here between father and son that she was obviously not privy to.

"We'll take you," the spinner said, and while Bae carried the yarn back in their house, the spinner lead the way back toward town.

"By the way, my name is Rumpelstiltskin," he finally introduced himself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. You are the best thing to happen to me all week," she smiled gratefully. She craned her neck to see the house she was to live in and so missed the spinner's startled expression and incredulous stare. He opened his mouth to reply but finding no words to compass his surprise, merely bowed his head and smiled.


	2. Glimmer of a Man

Chapter 2

Glimmer of a Man

Belle strolled leisurely towards Rumpelstiltskin's home, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. She had recently acquired several customers and felt she would do well here in this village, with the spinner's soft yarns plus the monthly commission she had from the castle. She would save for Market Day what she could make in between filling orders.

This was a day to be enjoyed whole-heartedly: to savor the sun caressing her face, contemplate frog harmonies in the far off stream, revel in the flowers that grew in wild abundance in the cool forest, a day to coax the birds from the trees if possible. It was also a day to visit the spinner.

The soft murmur of voices punctuated with high pitched giggles and a deeper mellow laugh drew Belle to the back of the cottage when persistent knocking at the front door brought no answer. She discovered Rumpelstiltskin and his son a short distance from the cottage bending over a small cauldron suspended on a wooden frame next to the fire pit.

Not wanting to interrupt, Belle paused to watch the interaction of father and son as they worked together. Rumpelstiltskin carefully dipped a ladle into the cauldron and poured a clear stream of steaming fluid over a row of strings suspended from a stick that Bae held. Their synchronized movements spoke of long familiarity with each other and their task. Bae turned the stick and Rumpelstiltskin repeated the process on the other half of the same strings.

The process was only interrupted when Bae reached a finger out to prod one of the growing lumps on the string, then jerked his hand back quickly.

"Bae, if you burn yourself, who's going to bandage that finger?" Rumpelstiltskin demanded in mock severity.

"You will Papa, just like you always do," this with a very well-practiced cheeky grin.

Belle could not quite catch the answering grumble from Rumpelstiltskin but noted that it was followed by a fond smile and shake of his head while Bae grinned back.

Their quiet camaraderie enchanted Belle and she had to quickly wipe the moisture that sprang to her eyes, before clearing her throat.

"Hello, gentlemen!" she called as she approached. The pair looked up simultaneously.

"Hi, Belle!" Bae greeted cheerfully, with a ready grin.

"Hello, Miss Belle" a more subdued response form Rumpelstiltskin, his smile slower to reach his mouth but no less welcoming.

Belle dropped her bag on the bench, her purpose for seeking them out entirely forgotten as she leaned over the steaming pot. "What mischief is this?"

"We're making candles, " Bae offered, indicating a row of long thin dripping candles hanging in pairs from the small lean-to behind the firepit. "And this time," he confided, "it's real beeswax."

"Beeswax?" Belle asked.

"Yeah, the tallow candles from our sheep really stink," Bae suddenly turned very serious wrinkling his nose and upper lip into a grimace. "So the more beeswax we can add, the better."

Belle was surprised and delighted at Bae's openness with her, the quiet shyness of their first meetings long gone.

Rumpelstiltskin and Bae worked together in companionable silence as Belle looked on, watching as with each pour of the ladle a new layer of wax was added to the rapidly growing candlesticks. The steaming clear liquid had cooled to an opaque thick sludge and Rumpelstiltskin slid the cauldron a little closer to the fire, stirring slowly.

"Papa battled the bees for part of their home yesterday," Bae chattered on, "so it's candlemaking today."

Ah," intoned Belle, nodding wisely. "A fierce battle, was it?"

"With the wounds to prove it," Rumpelstiltskin replied wryly, turning his head with a grimace to display a field of red raised dots decorating the side of his neck.

"Ah, you sacrificed for a noble cause indeed." With mock solemnity Belle dutifully admired the war wounds with an appropriate display of reverence and awe. Delighted by the light-hearted banter, Belle felt warmed by her ready inclusion in the close camaraderie of the two.

"We-ell," Belle drew the word out. "I heard that some people use a kind of oily fish as a candle. They dry it out then just burn the whole fish." Her raised eyebrows dared them to disbelieve.

Bae laughed at this absurdity, his laugh boyish, quick and open.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced up briefly, a small teasing grin transforming the normally serious face. "Surely not. Where did you hear that tale?"

"It is true!" Belle insisted. "I heard it from the northern merchants that were trading at my father's-, " Belle stopped suddenly, her impetuous smile vanishing, lips tightly closed. She ignored Rumpelstiltskin's quiet scrutiny and continued quickly. "Anyway, they brought back the tale and the fish from their travels up north."

"And the fish really burned?" asked Rumpelstiltskin, amused.

"They lit the tail end and it burned as bright as any candle," Belle said, "It did smell, well, a little fishy," she confessed with a grin. "But it was just as bright as a normal candle."

Bae seemed suitably impressed, Rumpelstiltskin perhaps less so but still amiably willing to suspend his doubt and enjoy the tale nonetheless.

"Is everything at your new house to your liking?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"Oh yes," she smiled readily, mindful of the concern in his glance. "It's finally feeling a little bit like home now."

"Good. You'll let us know if you need anything?"

Touched by his gentle concern, Belle swallowed the small catch in her throat before nodding silent assent. Belle hadn't expected to find anything other than a business deal when she sought out Rumpelstiltskin, and certainly not the kindness and companionship she had received since their first meeting. Her own home felt far away in more than just distance and Bae's sweet and ready grin, Rumpelstiltskin's gentle manner soothed the ache of her long absence.

"A new town, a new home. It's easy to feel a little lost," Rumpelstiltskin went on, ignoring her silence, seeming to hear the unspoken words behind her polite answers. "Bae and I, we'd be glad to help out with anything you need." The easy smile remained in his eyes even when the mouth relaxed.

"Thank you, it's so nice to have my own pair of knights in shining armour." Although Belle's words were light hearted, her eyes were damp with gratitude.

Bae chuckled in response then at some unnoticed cue carried the newly poured candles to the shed. It was barely early evening by the time the last drip had fallen, the last candle hung suspended to dry and harden. Rumpelstiltskin stretched his back as he dropped the ladle in the pot.

"Miss Belle, would you like to have a seat?" he invited, motioning to the wide wooden bench against the house. He eased himself onto the bench, stretching his right leg out in front of him stiffly with a muffled groan. He leaned his head against the cottage wall watching the shadows crossing the meadow, their touch cool and impersonal after the warmth of the afternoon.

"Oh, I completely forgot," Belle said, spying her bag on the bench. "I actually came over originally to ask you two to do me a favor." Reaching in her bag, Belle withdrew two sets of short knitted tubes. "Would you try out a new design for me? On Market Day I plan on offering several new items, but I need to be sure they will really be useful."

She motioned Bae over and lifting his hand she slid the tube up his arm to his elbow, fingers sliding through holes. The knitted glove hugged his arm, ending just below the knuckles, leaving the fingers free. She slipped the second tube-like glove onto his other arm.

"Will you try these out for a few days and let me know how you like them?"

Bae wriggled his fingers. "Oh, they're gloves, but without fingers."

She left him flexing his hands in delight, trying out this novelty, and turned to Rumpelstiltskin. "For you I tried a different design. I wasn't sure if the full arm would be an encumbrance so I made them shorter."

She held one fingerless glove out to him. As he reached forward cautiously she slipped the glove onto his hand, stroking it into place, her hands sliding smoothly around his. Lifting his wrist in one hand and straightening his fingers with the other, she gently coaxed his hand to become pliable in hers, analyzing the fit critically.

"How does it feel?" she asked as she drew the other glove on, her fingers gently gliding over the angles of his warm hand, massaging the cloth into place.

Belle felt Rumpelstiltskin's silent regard and turned, sensing his sudden stillness_. _A half-smile played at his lips, curiosity spread across his quiet face. The brilliant orange orb of the setting sun struck gold in the warm depths of his eyes as he studied her. Mesmerized by the fiery reflection in his eyes, Belle noticed for the first time the dormant strength in the lined face.

The ever-present sadness, the habitual wary look, these were not the defining characteristics of this man. His very being was more closely identified by his quiet kindness, his endless love for his son, perseverance against adversity, refusal to give hurt back to pay for hurt, willingness to reach out to a stranger.

"Miss Belle," Rumpelstiltskin reached out across years of exile to touch her hand gently. "Thank you for sharing with us, with Bae and me."

Dusk had almost filled the yard as Bae climbed on the bench on the other side of Rumpelstiltskin and leaned his head against his father's shoulder with a sigh. His hands still stroked the soft gloves he wore.

"About time for dinner, Bae?" Rumpelstiltskin wrapped an arm around his son, his hand stroking the dark head.

"Would you like to join us, Miss Belle?" Rumpelstiltskin stood up, son at his side, holding out a gloved hand to her.

Belle slipped her hand into his warm grasp. "I would love to," she said.

Always Rumpelstiltskin guarded himself carefully, but for the first time Belle felt that maybe she had caught a glimmer of the true man that was Rumpelstiltskin.


	3. Mud

Chapter 3

Mud and Other Wondrous Things

Belle glanced up briefly from her well-worn book to watch the liver-coloured shepherd dog harass a stray sheep back to the meadow. She had availed herself of Rumpelstiltskin's kind offer to use the bench at the side of his cottage and had spent a peaceful and productive afternoon in knitting and planning and quiet contemplation.

With Market Day approaching she needed to spend every spare moment on her creations but so often- on a daily basis truthfully- some book or other called so loudly that common sense could no longer be heard, and out came a beloved favorite. Sadly few were the books she had brought with her; she had searched every passing town for any merchant that might have books to sell but with little results.

Turning back to her book, she quickly buried herself deep in the bowels of the dungeon cell into which the djinn had been cast, when a wild yell sounded from behind the house. Belle jumped up, clutching her book to her, her eyes sweeping the once quiet scene, fearing some harm had come to the occupants of the cottage.

Footsteps pounded from around the corner of the house followed by a gasping Bae running full tilt. Glancing wildly over his shoulder, he weaved around the shed and fire pit, and shot out into the sheep-dotted pasture. Braith stood erect, ears straight up on guard, a low growl reverberating in her chest, keen eyes watching for any threat to her people or her flock. Belle gasped fearfully, worried that some horrible beast was loosed from the forest on a rampage of death and destruction.

She was startled however when around the corner of the house, pursuing Bae at a graceful lope, dashed his father, Rumpelstiltskin, using his crutch of course, but still moving surprisingly fast.

At that moment Bae, glancing over his shoulder, laughing wildly, tripped and plunged to the ground. Rumpelstiltskin swooped down on him.

"Now you will pay," he growled, falling on top of him and tickling mercilessly.

For the next five minutes the two were all flailing limbs, rolling bodies, and hysterical laughter, as well as the occasional plea for mercy. Belle sunk down on the bench both relieved and amused, hand over her mouth, trying to suppress a fit of giggles.

Finally noticing that they had rolled quite close to a large dark depression in the field, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed the unfortunate Bae around the middle and heaved in the direction of the enticing hole which Belle realized at the last minute was filled with mud. Deep dark goo of the particularly pernicious type. Bae hit with a resounding splat. An even more impressive shriek rent the air from the direction of the mudhole and Rumpelstiltskin settled himself cross-legged by the side laughing.

"Bae, that's what happens when you're not obedient, son," Rumpelstiltskin admonished snickering. Yet obtaining revenge and vindication through such stern discipline can only provide short-term satisfaction. Rumpelstiltskin's laughter was cut off by a large handful of thick sludge squelching firmly into the side of his face.

The sound emitted by Rumpelstiltskin's lips, although difficult to accurately describe, most closely resembled the grunt of a bear having discovered its longed-for beehive was in reality a wasps' nest.

"Did you just attack your father, Bae?" Rumpelstiltskin yelled fiercely when he could finally catch his breath. "Are you ready to take me on?"

Bae stood in the middle of the knee deep pit triumphant, laughing uproariously. With the crafty scowl of a conniving fiend his father reached deep into the same pit, pulling out a massive handful of mud, aimed carefully, and deftly launched the mass back at Bae. The roiling clump, separating as it sailed gracefully through the air, spread wondrously as it flew, covering Bae from head to knee, everything below knee already seeping in the muck.

Thus ensued the fiercest mud fight that Belle ever had the privilege to witness. It could have been written down in the annals of time as being at least in the top ten most enjoyed mud fights of all eternity. Handfuls of the slick brown goo flowed freely through the air, back and forth between father and son, accompanied by peals of laughter, grunts of exertion, and various other sounds typical of a battle to the death.

There was slipping and there was sliding and at one point Belle was afraid Bae might have gone under completely were it not for a stray foot waving wildly in the air. Rumpelstiltskin obligingly grasped the foot firmly and with a marvelous squelching sound extracted his son long enough for the boy to gasp for breath and stand on his own two feet. Then the battle resumed and a cunningly maneuvered attack knocked Bae on his back again.

Belle gaped wide-eyed, open-mouthed, at times forgetting to breath as a particularly vicious affront or well-executed sneak attack took her breath away. Finally she could keep her mirth in no longer and Belle burst out laughing, bent double and finally ending on her knees in the grass. Bae and Rumpelstiltskin both paused, wondering what new and devious sound assault their opponent had planned before realizing it was Belle sprawling on the ground, the laughter only escaping in gasps now. Belle managed to regain some small measure of dignity and raised herself up to a sitting position before eyeing the pair and collapsing again.

The gasping pair leaned on the edge of the mud pit, thoroughly marinated, not one inch of them free of the cloying brown goo.

"I'm... I'm s- sorry... ," gasped Belle. "I didn't mean to interrupt you... but you two look so-o funny!"

Father and son grinned at each other sheepishly, then burst out laughing again. Pulling each other from the hole, the two rolled themselves onto the ground and collapsed there panting.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Belle pulled herself erect, once more regaining decorum, strolled over to the pair. Unable to move, they stared up at her like fish tossed from their element. She placed one fingertip on Rumplestiltskin's brown forehead.

"You two," she shook her head as they still struggled to catch their breath in between fits of giggles and chuckles. It was Belle's turn to shriek as a hand flicked forward and grasped her wrist.

"Help me up," Rumpelstitlskin begged breathlessly.

As Rumpelstiltskin tugged at her arm Belle feared she would end on the ground between the two where no doubt their kind regard for her would result in several well executed hugs, divesting themselves of as much muck as was respectfully possible.

"Into the pit with her," yelled Bae gleefully.

"No, no!" she gasped, shaking her head wildly, holding back a giggling fit of her own, and Rumpelstiltskin released her with a sigh of disappointment.

Finally the two clambered drunkenly to their feet, leaning on each other for support. Belle realized this could not have been the first family mud fight as Bae called to her, "We're going to the river to rinse off, do you want to come?"

Belle considered declining the offer, leaving them to have their fun in the river together, but something tugged at her heart, perhaps some memory from her past, or perhaps the way Rumpelstiltskin watched her expectantly with what she thought might be hope in his eye. Either way, she could not have kept herself away if she wanted to and she found herself nodding.

As they set out for the river, the dripping pair invited Belle to walk next to them, but the gleam in Bae's eye and a quick glance between father and son warned her away and she felt it would be prudent to keep her distance until the cleansing power of the river was obtained.

By the time they reached the river the mud on their bodies was beginning to dry and fall off in clumps, which brought on more hilarity. Bae threw a chunk of hardened mud at his father and in response Rumpelstiltskin reached an arm around Bae's shoulders and pulled him against his side. The two walked in companionable silence until they reached the river, Belle following contentedly behind.

At the edge of the river Bae rushed into the water while Rumpelstiltskin waded in more sedately, then tossed his staff aside and jumped straight in over his head.

Rumpelstiltskin emerged, hair streaming. "There's a deep spot here that we rinse off in, Miss Belle."

"Come join us!" Bae invited, mud pouring off his head and shoulders.

Belle chuckled. "I think I'll just wade over here in this shallow bit- upstream, thank you all the same."

Belle rested on a small boulder to remove her shoes while Rumpelstiltskin and Bae began to rub the mud off their bodies painting the once clear waters mingling shades of brown and green.

Stepping cautiously Belle waded through the shallows, letting the cool liquid caress her ankles, bringing an icy numbness to her feet as her toes dug through the pebble-strewn bottom with each step. She gathered her skirts tucking them into the front of her belt as the water deepened, heading for a large flat very dry-looking boulder. Climbing onto her boulder Belle stretched out to enjoy the stillness of the scene, to let the sun's light soak into her skin and coax peace into her soul.

She didn't realize she had drifted off until she sat up and discovered Rumpelstiltskin and Bae were gone from their washing hole. Their clothes, devoid now of the dark muck, were spread out on rocks to dry in the sun. She located Bae asleep in a sunny patch of grass at the side of the river, wearing light short breeches. Perched on another boulder behind her Rumpelstiltskin waved when he saw her awake and jumped into the water letting the current carry him over to her boulder.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked, kneeling in the water, leaning his forearms against her stoney bench.

Belle yawned. " I didn't realize I had dozed off."

Placing both hands on her boulder, Rumpelstiltskin hoisted himself onto the rock and sat near her. His feet remained in the water and his breeches covered his legs just past the knees but as he had climbed up Belle had a fleeting glimpse of a terrible scar stretched across the inside of his leg from ankle to knee.

Staring out over the water Belle took deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. She had heard terrible rumours of Rumpelstiltskin and his involvement in the Ogre Wars but she had dismissed the vile words and ignored the suggestive looks. Having just glimpsed the extensive scarring, Belle knew that Rumpelstiltskin must have sustained a massive wound in the war. In her village Belle had watched the bodies of men carted back from fighting in the Ogre Wars, had sat with the healer and the injured for as long as she could bear it, to show the soldiers her support and care. She could not believe Rumpelstiltskin had survived such an injury. Her heart cried for this gentle man that had so kindly and unselfishly welcomed her into his and his son's life.

"You're quiet, Belle. Still sleepy?" Rumpelstiltskin reached out a cautious hand- always so careful around her- to touch her cheek briefly. He dropped his hand and glanced away, as if surprised at his own temerity, or perhaps fearful that he had offended.

Belle turned to smile at him, to let him know that his touch did not, could not offend.

"Rumpelstiltskin, " she paused, unsure how to phrase a question that touched on a very private topic, so private he might not forgive her for broaching it. Their newly-formed friendship was tenuous but Belle could not remain silent when she believed she knew part of the sadness in Rumpelstiltskin's habitual silence.

He looked at her, a small frown of worry on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just... just wanted to ask you. .. " Belle twisted her hands restlessly and bit her lip, then looked him in the eye, in the trusting placid face. "Rumpelstiltskin, I heard that you were in the Ogre Wars?"

Belle watched a wall descend over his visage as he turned away, a blank protective wall, immovable, inscrutable, with not a chink to let anything or anyone in. His glance scanned the river, but Belle knew he was seeing a scene far different than this peaceful view. He finally inclined his head slightly towards her.

His "yes" was barely audible.

"Oh," Belle murmured. "In my village... there were many brave men that fought the ogres. They returned as shadows of themselves. The few that returned at all."

Belle studied her hands, then looked over at Rumpelstiltskin. His gaze was frozen in place, a muted stricken look painting his face with misery.

"I just- I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. It must have been truly terrible. I can't even imagine."

Rumpelstiltskin glanced down towards her, not meeting her eyes. He finally quietly said, "thank you."

"And... I know that no one ever wants to talk about it," she started, then paused as she felt the consternation rolling off of Rumpelstiltskin, in his glance, the set of his body. She rushed on. "But sometimes it can be a relief to share painful experiences with a friend. So if you ever want to talk about it, I've been told that I'm a good listener. "

Rumpelstiltskin remained immobile. Belle thought he'd merged with the hard stone, so thoroughly the art of stillness had he perfected. She leaned back, letting the stream flow by her feet, watched the dragonflies diving and swooping over the water's surface, tried to soak in the peace of her surroundings.

"Maybe," said Rumpelstiltskin quietly staring straight ahead. "Maybe sometime. "

Belle was unsure if he really ever would, but she still had to try. She hoped that perhaps one day he would trust her enough to share the agony so clearly formed on his face and horribly etched on his heart.

"Thank you," he said again, then gently wrapped his hand around hers, fingers intertwined, resting their hands in his lap as he continued to watch the slow-moving river flowing ever away.


	4. Market Day

Chapter 4

Market Day

The sun was barely peeking over the top of the cloth merchant's house as Belle, Rumpelstiltskin, and Bae arranged their Market Day stall in the cobbled town square. Belle pulled her cloak tighter around her in the chill early morning air as she set out her wares: the fingerless gloves, a variety of hats and a few dainty baby caps, sturdy bags, warm thick stockings, other items she had been experimenting with all week.

Arriving before sunrise, Belle had wandered the sprawling square searching for the perfect location when she saw Rumpelstiltskin and Bae setting out their goods. She realized what a wonderful combination she and Rumpelstiltskin would make if they shared the same stall. Those coming for yarn would see what wonders could be created with his superior yarns, those interested in her garments would see the marvelous yarn from which they were created. An invitation was quickly extended as soon as Belle approached the pair.

Arranged outside the stall were baskets of unspun wool, the remaining yarn that Belle had picked through, as well as a brilliant array of spun threads for weaving and fine knitting. Rumpelstiltskin and Bae sorted through various other baskets, setting out their goods on the rough wooden counter.

"Oh, Rumpel are these the colors you finished last night? They're beautiful." Belle's hand slid smoothly over the bright rolls of thread as she admired the rainbow effect.

Bae stepped up. "These are the colours you worked on," he said pointing to several pale shades of green and red.

"Oh," Belle said, grimacing. "Um, these are... interesting colours. Maybe I didn't leave them in the dye quite long enough after all."

Rumpelstiltskin stepped forward to stand behind Bae, hands on his shoulders. "They are beautiful colours," he insisted. "We'll just call them shades of holly, ingeniously crafted for the holiday season."

Bae gave a snort then slunk away as his father tilted a dark brow at him. Belle just shook her head in resignation at Rumpelstiltskin's optimistic but forgiving attitude. At least the rest of the colours were breath-taking enough to balance out the muted hues of Belle's amateur endeavors.

Belle tied a row of gloves along the upright boards holding the awning over their stall. Belle was glad for the awning when she saw how hot and clear the day looked. The day had dawned brilliantly warm but full of promise.

While setting up Belle heard her name called out and turned to see Mara the maid at the inn approach. "Setting up already I see. I wasn't sure you would come today."

"Market Day is always so fun everywhere you go. Do you think there will be any mummers today?" Belle asked, delighted to see a friend when she was so new to this village. "I would love to see a mummer play again. It's been … a very long time."

"No, probably no actors today but Mittle said there might be jugglers coming through!" Mara eyed the spinner/ knitter stand in some surprise, reaching out a hand to finger the yarns set out on Rumpelstiltskin's side.

"Oh, how exciting!" Belle exclaimed. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't introduce you." She stepped closer to Rumpelstiltskin. " You know my friend Rumpelstiltskin and his son Bae." She rested a hand on Rumpelstiltskin's shoulder as he looked up from sorting through a large basket, surprise on his face.

"Oh, I know Bae," Mara chuckled. "My brother, Sherr, and Bae get in trouble often enough together." Bae grinned broadly.

"Really now?" Rumpelstiltskin glanced at his son with an inquiring tilt of his head.

"Nothing that Mam can't handle though." Mara held out her hand to Rumpelstiltskin. "I'm pleased to finally meet you. After all Bae's bragging about his Papa I expected some sort of god, so it's nice to see that you are just as normal as any man."

Rumpelstiltskin took her hand, casting a pained look at Bae and a smile at Mara.

Belle hooked an arm through Rumpelstiltskin's arm cheerfully. "I would never have made it here if he and his son hadn't helped me carry all my things this morning, and so kindly offered to share their stall with me. "

Mara laughed. "I'm glad someone is watching out for you, Belle. Well, I have to help Master Owens with his pig stall today," Mara said with a grimace and hurried off.

Belle turned back to hanging out mittens across the front edge of the wooden stall. "You know, Rumpel, I was thinking we could- " but was interrupted by a deep voice calling.

"Belle! There you are, I've been looking for you!" A young man with large floured apron approached, his sandy hair sprinkled with white powder as well. "I wondered-." He stopped when he saw the other occupants of the stall, his smile fading.

"Oh, Rylan! How nice to see you again," Belle said. "Let me introduce you to my good friend Rumpelstiltskin." Rumpelstiltskin stood up silently without smiling. "And this is his son Bae." Bae glanced up from the pile of spindles he was arranging, giving a small wave with a half-hearted smile.

Rylan tilted his head in Rumpelstiltskin's direction, distaste evident on his face, then turned his back to him, facing Belle. "There was a stall next to the baker's booth that would be perfect for your things. It may still be empty..."

"How sweet of you to think of me, but a spinner's booth is the perfect place to display my wares. Incidentally, I made something this week that I thought you might like," and she strolled out to the front of the stall and began discussing the deep blue knitting she held in her hands.

When she returned Rumpelstiltskin eyed her. "For being here such a short time you certainly have made a lot of friends." Belle searched his face and his words for bitterness or envy but heard only mild curiosity.

"Well, as lovely as it is to sit by your cottage all day, I do have to get out about the town and sell what I make." She smiled. "Rylan is a nice boy," she said quietly, stressing the word "boy" as she turned back to her knitted items. She missed Rumpelstiltskin's pleased look as he too returned to his goods.

Once Belle finally had all her goods arranged as she liked them she watched the two spinners finishing their preparations. Belle enjoyed watching the pair together, Rumpelstiltskin's quiet guidance and ready smile and Bae's eagerness and, at times, impish behavior were heart-warming and somehow soothing.

When they finished, they joined her in watching the ebb and flow of a full blown Market Day. Both merchants and shoppers rushed by carrying baskets of produce, porting bundles over shoulders, hauling buckets of unknown liquids, pushing carts, pulling wagons, yelling, arguing, singing, laughing. Squealing animals were lead past their stall: pigs, goats, the occasional sheep. A pair of chickens passed by carried by their feet, hanging down one farmer's back, clucking conversationally as they passed.

A large grey rabbit hopped by on a leash, followed by a small child in a dirty grey shift. Bae ran out to meet the waif and after quickly exchanging words asked his father, "Can I join Jari with his rabbits?"

Rumpelstiltskin nodded agreement. His "be back by dinner time" barely reaching Bae as he disappeared around the corner of the next stall.

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin rested on stools in the back of the stall in cool shade. The heat of the noon hour chased many of the participants in the Market Day madness back to their booths and homes, leaving the pair isolated in their corner of the market.

Nevertheless Belle was startled to hear her name called once again. "Aha! There you are, Belle!" Rumpelstiltskin made a sound very much like a told-you-so snort.

A large woman with ruddy complexion and pleasant face walked up to the stall, slightly out of breath, a small black and white goat trotting behind her on a rope. Belle recognized her next-door neighbour, Addi, and ran out to meet her, kneeling to scratch the little animal between the horns.

"How did you like the book the old traveler had to sell?" Addi asked as she examined the shared stall.

"Oh, the book is lovely," Belle said, standing up. "I've just got to the part with the enchanted garden..." but Addi mumbled a "that's nice, dear," and picked up a skein of Rumpelstiltskin's yarn, fingering the pale red fibers.

"Isn't that a lovely colour? Rumpel's yarns are the softest I have found in all my travels," she said as she wandered back into the stall.

"Rumpel?" Addi asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, you know my friend I believe, Rumpelstiltskin and his son Bae," indicating the quiet man and his son. Adjusting the awning in the back of the stall, Rumpelstiltskin glanced over his shoulder, his tight polite smile flashed for a moment, then was replaced by the old wary look that Belle had not seen for many a day.

"Oh, very nice dear," Addi mumbled, surprise written, on her face.

"Oh yes," Belle plowed on, refusing to be deterred from sharing her enthusiasm for her closest friends. "You know I traveled quite a while before settling here and never have I found such a superior quality of yarn anywhere between here and de Grey castle. "

She picked up two hats and placed them in Addi's hands. "Here, I made this with Milltown yarn and this from Rumpel's yarn. Feel the difference."

Addi politely fingered each hat, then paused to rub them slowly between her hands. "Well, maybe there's a slight difference." She glanced quickly at Rumpelstiltskin again before leading her goat away.

Belle frowned at the disappearing back, frustrated and angry at the silent condemnation she encountered from people who knew nothing about the man that had befriended her.

Rumpelstiltskin ignored entirely the intentional snubs. "What's this about a new book from a traveler, Belle?" Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. More than once Rumpelstiltskin was surprised to find Belle on his cottage bench, thoroughly engrossed in some well-loved book, knitting forgotten in the excitement of the tale before her.

Resigned for the moment to forget the rude behavior of her other friends, Belle reached into a basket and pulled out a thin book with a deep blue cover, books being never far from Belle.

"Well, a traveler at the inn had a few old books to sell, so Sari, the kitchen help, told Mara who told Addi to tell Jess, the smith's apprentice, to tell me about them. One of them had such a wonderful story! It was about the youngest of 3 sisters who for love of father left home to live in a faraway castle with a cursed sorcerer whose behavior it was said was truly beastly."

"And this is a good story?" Rumpelstiltskin wondered. "A woman living with a beast?"

"Fleur chooses to live with the sorcerer in order to save her father's life," Belle explained. "But she discovers that he wasn't the monster that everyone thought he was, he had actually been cursed..."

Belle shared with Rumpelstiltskin the whole story, eyes bright, barely pausing for breath. Every so often she would open the book and read an excerpt or two to explain a point.

"She has to break the sorcerer's curse before he can be a normal man again. Deep down inside he is a very noble man but no one knows it because everyone has always seen him as a cruel beast."

Rumpelstiltskin was an excellent story tale listener, asking clarifying questions, oh-ing and hmm-ing at all the right places. His eyes never left her face as she sat enraptured, earnestly leaning forward, gesturing animatedly. The brilliance of the rising sun paled in comparison to the fire within Belle's eyes when she discussed her beloved books.

"Fleur finds an enchanted garden laid out in concentric circles, abloom with gorgeous flowers, and at the center an inner sanctuary of roses," Belle beamed.

Rumpelstiltskin enjoyed watching Belle's transformation as she shared her beloved storied. "What about you, Belle?" Rumpelstiltskin asked. "Could you live with a beast and see the good inside him?"

"Well, I hope I never have to!" Belle had to chuckle at the absurdity of the idea. "But I think what is truly important can only be seen on the inside. What is in the heart is what really matters."

"What if it really is true though, what everyone says about him? Maybe he really was a beast and the woman was just blinded by her own good heart?" Rumpelstiltskin mused.

"No," objected Belle. "He was kind and gentle with her. No one knew the truth about him because they never saw the real man. They chose to believe in spiteful stories spread by vicious tongues."

They both knew that they no longer were talking about Belle's book.

"You won't win them over about me, Belle," Rumpelstiltskin said quietly. "They have made up their minds."

Belle had heard malicious rumours, but chose to ignore them, discounting them as falsehoods. Belle shook her head. "What do I care for idle tongues when I can see the truth in front of me."

"Perhaps their stories aren't so farfetched, Belle," Rumpelstiltskin said.

"Is it true, then, what they say?" Belle asked.

Rumpelstiltskin remained silent, any words of defense were lodged too deeply inside him, having no way past the years of suppression, of silent accusations and cruel judgments.

Belle gently placed her hand on top of his, clasping his hands in her own."What happened, Rumpel, in the war? What happened that day that you were injured?"

The dust of the market place, the swirl of people and animals, the rush of the noon hour faded into the distance as Rumpelstiltskin faced Belle. Eyes that had just remembered how to smile now full of untold visions of death and pain, the mask of misery returned. He stared at their clasped hands unseeing.

"Oh Belle," he finally whispered. "Your ears should never hear such things. Such violence and death. There were children there, Belle. .. children dying in front of me... " And the loving father spilt tears of fire that reflected unspeakable scenes of the vileness of war, the horror he had witnessed, and oh, yes, fear sharper than any dagger.

"Belle, you don't want to know these things. Please, please, don't ask," he begged with lips that beat back horrors, his throat constricted around scenes from hell.

Belle looked calmly into the tortured face that struggled to hold back a tide constantly beating at his soul, yearning to finally be free. "How can I not ask, Rumpelstiltskin? You have carried these horrors as heavy companions every day and every night for so long. How can I miss that look of resigned misery you carry so silently everywhere? I know their stories cannot be true, because I know your soul," Belle whispered.

Belle now was the one with tears that drowned her words.

Rumpelstiltskin reached up to lightly stroke her cheek with his fingertips, leaving a gleaming trail down her chin.

"Belle, don't. No tears. Not for me," he begged, consternation etched in every line of his face.

"Ask me another day, Belle, in another place." Rumpelstiltskin reluctantly conceded. "And I will tell you. It is a story no one should hear but you have been a true friend to me, when true friends are rare. You deserve to know the truth."

And looking into his face Belle heard the unspoken words, "even if it kills me and drives you away."


	5. Christmas

Chapter 5  
Christmas

Belle awoke early on Christmas morn and stretched luxuriously. Her woolen blanket (a gift from her sister who taught her to knit) and the soft sheepskin she lay on (a gift from Rumpelstiltskin) enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth and security. A faint bird call reached her loft bedroom and she smiled to hear the answering call. The pale grey of the dawn sky outlined the rafters in faint halos.

Attending midnight service at the little village church last night, a solemn and serious affair, reminded her of home but she refused to worry today as there was much to be done. She had presents to give out today...

Once her snug home was alight with a crackling fire in the fireplace and the candles set in her windows, she began to gather her packages when she heard a tapping at the door. She was startled to be greeted by a floating pile of greenery.

"Hello?" she called tentatively. The greenery shifted and a smiling Rumpelstiltskin emerged from the side of the pile.

"I noticed you didn't have any protection hanging above your doors or windows or," he looked up, "even ceiling." He tsked, shaking his head with a smile.

"Am I supposed to?" she asked, delighted with her favorite visitor, stepping aside to allow him entrance.

"To keep the evil spirits away, don't you know," and Belle was unsure if he was teasing or serious, "...and the plague, of course, and um, bad luck, and probably many very serious illnesses."

"Like sprained toes and hair loss?" Belle asked, in quiet contemplation of the consequences of such a fate.

"Exactly!" Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. "Well, it is tradition in our home to decorate so I thought I would bring our traditions to your home." Setting the pile onto the floor, he began separating branches of holly, of ivy, even small pine boughs, Belle was surprised to note.

"What are the pine needles for? Do they ward off trolls or frighten away pixies?" she teased.

Rumpelstiltskin cast a sly glance at Belle from underneath a raised eyebrow. "They smell good," he said, eliciting a snicker from Belle. She cautiously gathered some of the bright green holly with its red berries as Rumpelstiltskin arranged them along all the windows. Following him through the house she handed him ivy to drape over doorways, and more holly boughs outside for the front and back doors.

When one wicked thorn-edged leaf pricked his thumb, Rumpelstiltskin dropped the bough with a quiet hiss. Without thinking Belle took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips to press a soft healing kiss to the injured skin.

"Oh," Belle stopped, worried Rumpelstiltskin might be embarrassed at the familiarity, and feeling a little shy herself. "I didn't..."

But Rumpelstiltskin was used to Belle's spontaneity, and merely chuckled. He raised his other hand to her face, rubbing his thumb across her cheek, with one of his eye-crinkling wry grins. His smile transformed his face as it transformed her heart and for a moment electricity sparked between deep brown eyes and gentian blue. Belle caught her breath as Rumpelstiltskin paused then chuckled again and turned back to arranging pine boughs on the fireplace mantel.

Belle watched, captivated by the firelight flickering across Rumpelstiltskin's face, alternately casting him in shadow then in brilliance. Of all the men with whom she had ever been acquainted none had inspired more than a passing friendship. They eventually revealed themselves to be self-centered or insensitive or simply not interested in a woman as an equal.

With Rumpelstiltskin Belle didn't feel like a desired object, a coveted possession, or an end goal. There was no little-mindedness, pettiness, or judgmental attitude in him. His look, full of respect and affection, said that she mattered for herself, that her thoughts and feelings were valued as an equal and as a friend. She had not realized how relaxed and warmed she felt with him.

Belle came back from her musing when Rumpelstiltskin turned back from arranging the last pine cone and bough and said, "Happy Christmas, Belle," with a smile.

"Very festive, thank you for sharing." Belle said appreciatively looking around her newly decorated home. "Merry Christmas, Rumpel. Won't you join me for some wassail? I understand it is the best yet from the Ram Inn, and I so hoped to share it with guests."

Rumpelstiltskin followed her into the back cooking area. The central fireplace divided the ground floor and was shared by the living room in the front of the house and the kitchen in the back.

"I have something else for you," Rumpelstiltskin said, offering her a cloth wrapped bundle. Belle peeled back the layers of the cloth, releasing the aroma of sweet spices from a tiny pie.

"Did you make this, Rumpel?" Belle's face lit up as she inhaled appreciatively, ending with a sigh.

He nodded, "Bae and I bake mince pies every year for Christmas. We ate ours hot last night but Bae wanted to be sure that you got yours today."

As Belle placed the pie on the long wooden table to be savored slowly later, Rumpelstiltskin said, "I also brought you this."

Belle turned back to see him holding another gift, nestled in his hands a small terra cotta pot overgrown with a dainty vine decked in a multitude of petite deep green teardrop-shaped leaves.

Belle raised a questioning brow. "A plant?"

"A special plant. I found a wild dog rose growing hidden in the forest, a bower full of pale pink flowers. I thought of your enchanted rose garden behind the sorcerer's castle. So I brought home a few cuttings hoping to coax them into growing for me. This one was agreeable to the idea."

Rumpelstiltskin presented the pot to Belle, his hands warm, lingering against hers as she accepted the gift.

Belle cradled the small pot, speechless. This gentle guileless man- his simple gestures and quiet presence- made her feel more at home than she ever had anywhere else and more accepted than she had in all her wanderings.

Into the silence Rumpelstiltskin added, "The flowers reminded me of you, so …delicate … and beautiful." He raised a hand to caress the pot with a finger then let his hand drop as Belle did not respond.

Rumpelstiltskin watched Belle, still and quiet, head bowed over the rose, until a tear slide down her cheek.

"Belle," he stepped forward, hand outstretched, beseechingly. "Belle, I'm sorry, did I offend you? I didn't mean to hurt you."

Belle stepped closer to Rumpelstiltskin, placing the plant on the fireplace mantel with a sigh. She raised a tear-streaked face to examine his lined dear face and very simply wrapped her arms around him. Rumpelstiltskin remained frozen momentarily in surprise to find the sweetest gift he could imagine bestowed on him: this woman, so brave and unselfish, endlessly generous with her heart, wanting to be close to him, needing him.

"Oh, Rumpel," she sniffled. "Thank you."

Rumpelstiltskin wrapped Belle in his arms, pulling her into his embrace. His hand tangled in the auburn strands, gently guiding her to his shoulder where he could tuck her under his chin, his other hand stroking her back. He breathed a sigh of sadness and joy. Rumpelstiltskin longed to soothe the worry from her brow, to remove the hidden pain from her eyes, to bring solace to her heart.

Belle inhaled the scent of warm sunshine and wild wind that Rumpelstiltskin carried with him. She breathed in peace as she rested against his chest, his close-guarded heart murmuring in her ear. She felt the faint breath of air on her head when he rested his lips against her hair, the warmth of his hands that caressed her back, strength and tenderness both in his touch.

"Yours is the sweetest gift I have had in a long time. I've just been gone, away from anyone that cared, for so long." Hot tears caught up in her throat. "And you have been so kind, so welcoming."

"Oh, Belle," he murmured. "It is no hardship to welcome an angel into my home."

Rumpelstiltskin propped himself against the far edge of the fireplace, taking the weight off his injured leg, and gathered Belle closer against him, hands stroking her back, her shoulders, leaning his cheek against her hair, his lips brushing against her forehead.

"Belle, where is your family?" he murmured, softly so as not to disturb the fragile bond grown between them. "What is the sadness you carry in your eyes?" His hand reached to wipe a tear-drenched cheek, to linger there for a breathless moment, his fingers a dam that held back the tears and pain of days gone by.

No immediate answer could Belle form and the silence stretched on but Rumpelstiltskin understood silence. Silence needed to weigh one's words, to gauge appropriate responses. Silence needed to feel the pain of past hurts and to gauge the strength needed to fight its crippling effects. Silence needed to fight the grip sorrow exerts on the heart, to fight to breath freely enough to allow speech.

"I had a home ... once," Belle began softly, not moving from the security of warm arms that knew how to hold sorrow. " But it is gone now." Belle sighed deeply, as if she could breath out the pain and be rid of it.

"My home was the first to be attacked when the ogres returned. My village was scattered- my family, my friends. As the ogres came closer my father made plans for my sisters and I to travel to my aunt in another town but the ogres were upon us sooner than we expected. My sisters and I fled together, with a trusted soldier to guide us but..."

Memories filled Belle's eyes with a darkness that Rumpelstiltskin had never seen, that Belle had hid so well.

"Oh, Belle," he whispered into her hair. "I am so sorry."

She felt tension ease from her frame as she leaned into Rumpelstiltskin's arms, leaned on his quiet hidden strength.

"Ogres caught up to us but the soldier barred their way, giving us time to flee. I was separated from my sisters." Belle exhaled months of repressed sorrow and uncertainty. "I have seen none of them since. I don't know know if my father escaped. And the soldier, our friend, he could not have survived..."

"And your travels... you've been looking for them," Rumpelstiltskin guessed. There was no shyness in the hands that unreservedly held and comforted her, supporting her as she shared her sorrow.

"Yes, I have found a few friends along the way, and a few loyal... friends have been searching. But no one has seen my family."

Belle's tears had ceased but her heart remained heavy. "I miss my sisters, Rumpel, my father, my friends. I just want to know that they are safe." Safe, she thought, as she felt wrapped in the arms of this courageous man whose familiarity with sorrow had taught him compassion and empathy. She hoped they had been fortunate enough to find friendship and comfort as she had.

"Belle," Rumpelstiltskin held Belle away from him slightly, hands gently rubbing her shoulders. "I have friends that also travel. Perhaps... perhaps I could find them and have them ask around on their travels." Rumpelstiltskin continued to frown and Belle could see he was troubled by reforming the connections with these friends.

"Rumpel, thank you." With so much in his past that was unpleasant Belle was grateful for his willingness to help her.

Belle reluctantly pulled out of his embrace. "I have a few presents for you as well," and she lead Rumpelstiltskin to a seat by the fire and brought her packages to the table.

"When I hurt my hand... on my way here, a witch gave me an ointment for aches and pains of the body," said Belle.

"A witch," Rumpelstiltskin said doubtfully.

"Well, probably not a real witch," Belle said wryly, "just a woman that grew and sold herbs and knew their properties." She pulled the cork stopper from an earthenware jar. "The ointment helped my hands feel so much better. Maybe it will help you."

Kneeling down in front of Rumpelstiltskin, Belle scooped a measure of the ointment into her hands and began rubbing them together.

"Belle, what are you doing?" Rumpelstiltskin sat up straight as she reached for his leg. He grabbed her wrists, stopping her. "There's no need - ."

"No need? Rumpel, I see how much your leg aches, especially when you've been chasing sheep or in the cold. Do you really think I don't notice how you take care of everyone else, including me, without thinking about yourself?"

"That's how it should be, Belle," Rumpelstiltskin argued.

"Let me help you in some small way for once." Belle slid her hands under the bottom of his pants to softly rest on the warm uneven flesh of his scarred leg.

Rumpelstiltskin gripped his thigh with both hands. "Oh, Belle," he breathed out, with a look of both sorrow and gratitude. "I am the beast," he said. "You shouldn't touch me."

"I've seen behind your front, Rumpel, and no beast lives there." Sliding her hands up his leg, following the scar to the knee, Belle's hands lightly skimmed over his skin. She rubbed the ointment into the knee and withdrew her hands to gather more of the medicine. Again she started at the knee feeling the warm skin, smooth on the outer side of the leg and the rough ridges on the inside.

"Who did this to you, Rumpel?" she slid her fingers down to the ankle and began to pull off his shoe.

Rumpelstiltskin sat in resigned mortification. "Ogres," he answered succinctly.

With the shoe off she could see the scar across the instep, slightly twisting the foot. She arranged a basin with warm water from her tea kettle, and soaked his foot while she fetched a towel.

"I helped our healer many times as she treated the soldiers after battle." After drying his foot, she rubbed the medicine into the scar tissue over and over. "You should have this done every day, Rumpel. Even now it will loosen this scar tissue so it won't hurt so much and you'll be able to walk better."

Rumpelstiltskin was caught between wonder and mortification, the firm pressure of Belle's warm healing hands soothing his leg and his heart.

Belle continued to rub the rest of the foot, then back to the scarred instep, kneading the scar tissue over and over. "Rumpel, why didn't your wife do this for you when you returned? You could walk much better today if it had been cared for properly when it was injured."

When Rumpelstiltskin didn't answer she looked up, her hands continuing their work. A terrible resignation dominated his face, the sorrow and bitterness buried so deep Belle barely caught a glimpse in the hidden depths of eyes so used to carrying pain.

"Peasants were meant to die in the war, Belle, not return home. Only cowards returned home," Rumpelstiltskin said, the pain in his tone as heavy as the pain in his heart.

A dull ache grew in Belle as she read the truth in his eyes. "So... the one who should have supported you most judged you just as everyone else did."

"My wife... was not interested in … helping me in any way when I returned." His words held no bitterness, merely quiet resignation. "But I survived. I lived to come back and take care of Bae."

"Rumpel, you were a hero! So few men returned from the war in my village- we celebrated the return of every single one of them! That they were alive to come back to their loved ones was a miracle!"

Belle was torn between the desire to sob bitterly or rail angrily against a cruel lord that sacrificed his people and the cruel people that shunned an injured hero who deserved a hero's welcome. That Rumpelstiltskin's actions were anything less than brave and noble Belle refused to believe. Whatever happened during that war, Belle was sure that Rumpelstiltskin had acted honorably.

-To Be Continued-


End file.
